


Stuck on the Grid

by doseki



Series: The New Grid: A Changed Game [7]
Category: Tron: Legacy
Genre: AU, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-02
Updated: 2011-01-02
Packaged: 2017-10-14 08:32:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/147357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doseki/pseuds/doseki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As always, potentially spoilery for Tron: Legacy. Also, mentions of M/M relationship. (Oh noes.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stuck on the Grid

Sam woke up with a start, covered with sweat and in need of a shower, his breath coming out in sharp, ragged gasps. "What the hell was that?" he muttered to himself, trying to _forget_ the dream. It had been incredibly vivid, and he wanted the details to slip away as quick as possible.

For God's sake, he was twenty-seven years old, and active enough, when did he fall back into having wet dreams? He kicked off the blankets on his bed and got up, feeling embarrassed and frustrated. He hoped Quorra was asleep. Or at least in her room, because he'd have to walk across the common area to get to the bathroom.

 _Goddamn it, Dad, don't you think a guy needs a bathroom close at hand? I'm not twelve anymore._ Of course his father hadn't thought of that. He hadn't expected Sam to come along at all. And Quorra probably never needed a bathroom, so naturally it was near _his_ room.

Sam peeked out around the corner of the hall. Quorra was no where to be seen. He had his light suit bundled up in his hands, and he jogged across the common area, just in case, and shut himself in the bathroom. Like everything else in Kevin Flynn's abode, it was bright white and spotless. And if he was as into the whole Zen thing as Sam thought, he expected the water to be freezing. Surprisingly, it was not. In fact, it was perfect, just on the edge of too hot, and it relaxed all the muscles in his body instantly. He wasn't sure what he'd do about his boxers. Wash them in the sink and hang them up, he supposed.

He scrubbed himself clean and just stood under the water for a while, until he felt like he was about to fall asleep in the shower, and the image of Alan Bradley came unbidden to his mind, and fuck, if it wasn't starting to affect him again.

His eyes opened, and he focused hard on the shower head. "Stop acting like a teenager," he admonished himself aloud, running his fingers through his hair and turning off the water.

Sam toweled himself dry and guessed he'd have to go commando until further notice. Fortunately, the light suit was so form fitting that it didn't really matter. Once he was dressed, he scrubbed out his boxers as best he could in the sink and hung them over the top of the shower curtain, and went back to his room.

Quorra was outside. Good. He didn't want to listen to her annoying questions about things she had no business asking about.

He slipped back into his room and got back into bed, staring at the ceiling. He _was_ tired again. (He was tired a lot.) But he didn't want to risk messing up his light suit too, because he had no idea how to clean it, or even if it could be cleaned. But he couldn't keep from yawning, keep his eyelids from drooping.

His father had asked. Wife. Girlfriend? What was Sam supposed to say? "Well actually, Dad, sometimes Alan and I fuck when we're in the mood." So instead he mentioned Marvin. Besides, it wasn't like he and Alan were in a relationship or anything. And how the hell would his Dad react? Or Quorra, for that matter. No, just as he did at home, he kept things to himself. The important things. So no one could get in. If they can't get in, they can't hurt you.

Alan had said that once.

 _Sam, sprawled out on his stomach, unable to move, he was that well fucked. Alan next to him, leaning back against the pillow, eyes closed, and breathing hard, but evenly. _

_Sam never really could pinpoint if Alan would top or bottom, but it seemed like whatever mood he was in, Sam wanted it. However he could get it. However Alan wanted him, he'd do it. And fuck, he liked it. Especially like this._

 _"Sam, we should stop doing this," Alan said._

 _Sam's heart started to thud hard and fast, almost painfully, and with effort, he turned his face over so he was at least looking at Alan. It had nothing to do with the sex, and everything to do with the rising panic in his chest. No. No. Alan was the only one who was always there. Alan never left him. Alan had been his surrogate father, Alan made time for him, Alan encouraged him. Alan wanted him. Sam clung to that like it was the only thing that would sustain him. But all he said aloud was "No."_

 _"This isn't going anywhere," Alan said, looking over at Sam. He reached over and pushed some his hair out of his eyes. "You're young still. You should go out. Meet someone closer to your age. Have fun. Make it mean something."_

 _"No."_

 _"Why?"_

 _Sam grunted as he rolled over onto his side so he wasn't straining his neck so much to look at Alan. Oh god, he was gonna need pillows to sit on later, but that was okay. He didn't have anywhere to go. "I like what we have."_

 _"You might like what someone else can offer better. Or are you afraid?"_

 _Sam frowned, his eyebrows furrowing. "Afraid of what?"_

 _"Letting someone else in. Makes sense. If they can't get in, they can't hurt you."_

 _"Shut up, Alan," Sam said._

 _"If you find someone else, I'm still gonna be here," Alan said quietly. "I'm not going anywhere."_

 _But Sam already felt like a block of iron was settling in his chest. "Alan, why're you doin' this to me?"_

 _Alan sighed. Without his glasses, he looked so much younger, Sam thought, though he knew he couldn't see him clearly. This was fine, because Sam felt his eyes burning, and he didn’t need Alan to see that. "Forget I said anything."_

 _Sam's voice was a whisper. "Thank you."  
_

Goddamn it, Alan. He was right, of course. Alan was always right about everything, something that infuriated Sam, and something he desperately needed, whether he knew it or not. Sam's eyes opened. He wasn't sure what time it was, but he couldn't sleep anymore. He got up and left his bedroom, joining Quorra outside.

"He's not on the Grid anymore, is he?" Sam asked.

Quorra shook her head. "He went to join Alan One. He'll be back, Sam Flynn, don't worry."

Alan One. Alan-1. Alan's login for everything imaginable. "Alan. Alan knows?"

"Be patient, Sam Flynn," Quorra said, patting him on the shoulder. "The portal is closed. You have to wait."

Sam shook his head. "If Dad and Clu can get messages to Alan, then I can too. Somehow. It's gonna be years before they come back, at least for me. He said that. Hours in here, minutes out there."

"He won't leave you in here," Quorra began, but Sam interrupted her, his voice rising in both pitch and volume.

"You don't know him, Quorra. What is he to you? A creator. Some sort of god figure. He can do no wrong, right? No. He left me. Years. Over a _decade_. So he got stuck, but you know what? Once he's in the real world, he's gonna forget. He's gonna forget me, gonna forget you. Gonna go back to his company and fix it, and I'm just gonna fucking rot in here. Tell me how he messaged Alan."

Quorra looked surprised at Sam's outburst, but she didn't flinch at all. "I don't know," she said. "Only Users can contact the outside world."

Of course that wasn't the answer Sam _wanted_ to hear. "Then how did Clu contact Alan?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know much," Sam snapped, and he stormed off back through the force field to his room. He had to think. He had to think _clearly_ , but he was so tired, his head was feeling fuzzy again...


End file.
